Date: Sat, 6 Nov 2004 13:21:49 EST
From: Janek92003@aol.com
Subject: Boy Corrupted 1

I think this story would be suitable for the adult-youth section, but I
leave that to you. Thank you for considering publishing my work.

Boy Corrupted

Being an art teacher in an all-boys school kept me in a permanent state
of sexual arousal. I was married, but "normal" sex with my wife was a
clinical business in which we both soon lost interest. She pursued her
hobbies, and I pursued pretty boys. She knew of my perverted passion, but
turned a blind eye to it, as the saying goes. Whenever I invited some
nice boys over for tea or an impromptu weekend al fresco art class, she
was a charming hostess. In fact, I soon realised that she was conniving
at my lust for young boys, and would - if I had asked her - procured
victims for me herself!
You will not be surprised to hear that I volunteered for duty on "Games"
afternoons. It gave me an opportunity to supervise the showers after the
boys had got themselves thoroughly filthy on the football field or
running cross-country marathons. Goodness, all those delicious naked boys
shrieking and squirming in the shower, their lovely little penises waving
and their bubble butts glistening wetly - they were enough to give me a
raging hard on which could only be assuaged by what a fellow-pederast
called "a quick forty off the wrist". Forty?! Hell, I could come in ten
strokes after five minutes of feverish contemplation of all that gorgeous
boy flesh. Occasionally, I would get a glimpse of a boy whose penis had
erected, for whatever reason, and that had me salivating. I mean,
literally licking my lips, storing up the images for later masturbation.
Of course the boys knew. Boys always do. They referred to be as Dirty
Duggie (my name is Douglas Hamilton for the record). "Watch him, or he'll
feel you up" I heard one boy say. "Feeling a boy up" - ah, what a dream,
but one that I knew I could never realise. The world does not understand
about the passion that a man can have for boys. It's a hard
cock-throbbing unforgiving lust for young male flesh that can drive you
crazy. I was like a starving man at a banquet forbidden to touch the
food. Still, I had my moments.....
Art Class with 3B, a class of twenty or so thirteen-year olds, most of
them talentless. Delicious sexually, but totally without artistic talent.
Peter Howard, a fresh-faced freckles boy in long grey (school regulation)
trousers and a blue shirt and tie was my chosen model for the lesson.
Standing on a table, sideways on to the class, he endured the imposition
with seemly stoicism. I walked round the class, looking over boys'
shoulders at their mostly pathetic attempts to draw young Howard.
"Look closely, boy!" A startled pubescent waited for my reprimand. I
pointed to his drawing, or more accurately, to the crotch of the trousers
he had drawn. "Can't you see his bulge, boy? Are you blind?" Delicious
moment!
"S-sorry, sir."
"That's all right, Bradley. It's about realism. We all have a bulge
there, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"So draw it., boy!"
By this time, of course, I had a raging hard on. Dirty Duggy. Time to get
to the front of the class.
"Some commendable efforts, boys, but your powers of observation need
sharpening. Bradley, explain to the class what we were just talking
about."
Oh delicious moment, the power of a teacher to lead. And corrupt.
"It's about, erm, well, the bulge in his trousers, sir."
Stunned silence, followed by a few suppressed giggles/
"And what exactly IS that bulge? You, Hislop! Answer, boy!"
By now my hand was in my trouser pocket caressing my hard-on. All my
lovely boys!
"Er, like, well, what we got between our legs, sir."
"Exactly, Hislop. And what HAVE we got between our legs?"
Another silence.
"You, Sherwood. What have you got between your legs, boy?"
"Penis and testicles, sir."
"Good. So, please draw them when you are sketching Howard, because he has
a penis and testicles too, right, Howard?"
Sweetly, the boy blushed.
"Oh dear, are we shy? Are we like little girls? Or are we boys, proud of
what we have? Come on, Howard, be proud of what you have."
"Yes, sir," he said meekly.
"Well, and what DO you have, boy?"
"A penis and testicles, sir."
I prayed that the precum oozing from my cock was not so copious that it
would cause a damp patch on my trousers.
"Good. Pity you are not nude modelling, eh?"
Giggles all round. Boys love anything risque.
"Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. I mean..."
Poor boy, so confused now.
"It's all right, Howard. We don't need to see your penis to know that it
is there. All right, carry on, boys."
I needed to get to my little annexe to relieve the mounting tension in my
scrotum. God, how I loved these little boys, tempters every one of them.
No sooner had I entered my little sanctum than there was a roar of
laughter from the class. I emerged just in time to see Hislop at the
blackboard drawing a beautifully obscene representation of a huge cock
with a hanging scrotum. The little bastard, making fun of my diatribe
about penises and testicles.
"Hislop!" I roared. "In here, right now!"
He shuffled sheepishly across the classroom and into the annexe.
"The rest of you, just behave. That's an order."
I followed Hislop into the annexe, closing the door behind me. Now I had
him all to myself.
In those days, it was permitted for a master to administer corporal
punishment. I ordered Hislop to kneel on a chair, his body bent forward
over it, offering his backside, tautly outlined under his tight trousers,
to my gaze. He was truly at my mercy, and he knew it.
Looking at that schoolboy butt just served to fuel my lust. If only I
could strip him naked and drive my hard throbbing penis deep into his
schoolboy anus! I suppressed a sigh as I contemplated this tantalising
prize, so near and yet so far.
I can't remember what I said to him, but I just kept talking while I took
out my cock and began masturbating. God, the fantasies!
"You know I could cane you, Hislop, for this," I said, stroking his
buttocks lasciviously. "Do you think I should cane you?"
"I don't know, sir."
"What you drew on the board was wicked, boy. Even a caning on your bare
buttocks would hardly be punishment enough."
Silence.
"Don't you agree?"
Silence.
"Well, you don't disagree."
With that, I pulled his trousers down, followed by his underpants. Now
his bottom lay bare and exposed to me. Such pretty cheeks, and a
delicious pucker between. My cock was throbbing out of control now.
"Yes, boy, a good smacking on your naked bottom is what you deserve."
I ran my free hand over his buttocks (my other hand was busy, as you can
imagine) and delivered a light smack, more a lovepat than a spank.
"Anyway, that penis you drew on the blackboard was a gross exaggeration.
When did you ever see a penis that big?"
"Erm, I never did, sir. It was just a joke."
"I am sure you don't think of your own penis as "just a joke", Hislop."
"No, sir."
I couldn't help myself, I was so inflamed now, close to coming. I reached
under and cupped his delicious bundle in the palm of my hand.
"Not a joke at all, dear boy. In fact, you should be proud of what you
have."
Silence.
"You ARE proud of your penis, I hope?"
"I suppose so, sir."
"Don't suppose, boy. Be proud of your penis. It is what makes us men. Do
you understand?"
"I think so, sir."
As we talked, I continued to hold his bundle in my hand, caressing it
discreetly, hoping against hope that he would become aroused. He did.
"My, my, Howard, it seems to be growing!"
"Sorry, sir. Can't help it. It just does that sometimes."
Sweet innocent boy, he clearly hadn't learned about the joys of
masturbation yet.
"It's all perfectly natural, Howard. It happens to all of us." I paused.
"Even to me."
Another silence.
"As you can see. Stand up, boy."
He stood up and turned to face me. Then he looked down and saw my erect
penis in my hand. I was no superman, but I had no reason to be ashamed of
my cock. (Pity my wife never appreciated it, but then, who gives a fuck
about what women want?)
"You see, Hislop. It happens to all of us, men or boys. Do you ever touch
yourself there?"
"Wh-what? Don't know what you mean, sir."
I wrapped my fingers round the shaft of my erection and gave myself a few
luscious strokes. Please god I wouldn't cum too soon!
"Like that."
"No, sir."
"Well, do it, boy, and tell me what you feel."
Darling boy, he obeyed without question, wrapping his hand round his
tumescent cock and stroking it till it swelled and hardened into a very
respectable schoolboy erection. My hero!
"Well, how does it feel?"
"Sort of, well, nice, sir."
"Nice? Is that the best you can do? I think it's more than nice! I do it
all the time, and I LOVE it!"
A naked boy standing before me, his trousers and underpants round his
ankles, his erect cock in his hand, discussing the joys of masturbation
with me, his art teacher. It was a magical moment and one that I have
revisited a thousand times in my imagination.
"And you should love it too, Hislop. It's called masturbation - as I am
sure you know - and it is what all boys should do, for their physical,
mental and spiritual health."
"Yes, sir."
"All right, Hislop, you may return to your seat. But let's keep this
little conversation just between the two of us. Do you agree?"
"Yes, sir. Not a word to anyone."
"Good boy."
As soon as he had left my annexe, I wanked myself to a quick but glorious
climax, spurting my spunk into a clean white handkerchief. Let my bitch
of a wife launder it. She knew perfectly well why it was stiff, but I
really didn't give a toss. What I didn't know was that Hislop would
reappear in my life in a dramatic way, thanks to my frigid bitch of a
wife. But that's another story for another day.

[to be continued. Comments to janek92003@aol.com]